or occasionally preached in it during the year preceding his death. From respect for the name of the illustrious Nonconformist, we have had a view taken of the interior of the chapel in its present state,

PHILLIDOR, THE CHESS-PLAYER. Phillidor is known, in the present day, not under his real name, but under one voluntarily assumed; and not for the studies to which he devoted most time and thought, but for a special and exceptional talent. François André Danican, born at Dreux, in France, in 1726, was in his youth one of the pages to Louis XIV., and was educated as a courtmusician. He composed a motet for the Royal Chapel at the early age of fifteen. Having by some means lost the sunshine of regal favour, he earned a living chiefly by teaching music, filling up vacant time as a music-copyist for the theatres and concerts, and occasionally as a composer. He composed music to Dryden's Alexander's Feast; in 1754, he composed a Lauda Jerusalem for the chapel at Versailles; in 1759, an operetta called Blaise le Savetier; and then followed, in subsequent years, Le Maréchal-ferrant, Le Sorcier, Ernelinde, Persée, Themistoclée, Alceste, and many other operas-the whole of which are now forgotten.

Danican, or to give the name by which he was generally known-Phillidor, lives in fame through his chess-playing, not his music. When quite a

young man, an intense love of chess seized him; and at one time he entertained a hope of adding to his income by exhibiting his chess-playing powers, and giving instructions in the game. With this view he visited Holland, Germany, and England. While in England, in 1749, he published his Analyse des Echecs-a work which has taken its place among the classics of chess. During five or six years of residence in London, his remarkable play attracted much attention. Forty years passed over his head, marked by many vicissitudes as a chess-player as well as a composer, when the French Revolution drove him again to England, where he died on the 31st August 1795. The art of playing chess blindfold was one by which Phillidor greatly astonished his contemporaries, though he was not the first to do it. Buzecca, in 1266, played three games at once, looking at one board, but not at the other two; all three of his competitors were skilful players; and his winning of two games, and drawing a third, naturally excited much astonishment. Ruy Lopez, Mangiolini, Terone, Medrano, Leonardi da Cutis, Paoli Boi, Salvio, and others who lived between the thirteenth and the seventeenth centuries, were also able to play at chess without seeing the board. Father Sacchieri, who was professor of mathematics at Pavia early in the last century, could play three games at once against three players, without seeing any of the boards. Many of these exploits were not well known until recently; and, on that account, Phillidor was

regarded as a prodigy. While yet a youth, he used to play imaginary games of chess as he lay awake in bed. His first real game of this kind he won of a French abbé. He afterwards became so skilful in this special knack, that he could play nearly as well without as with seeing the board, even when playing two games at once. Forty years of wear and tear did not deprive him of this faculty; for when in England, in 1783, he competed blindfold against three of the best players then living, Count Bruhl, Baron Maseres, and Mr Bowdler: winning two of the games and drawing the third. On another occasion he did the same thing, even giving the odds of 'the pawn and move' (as it is called) to one of his antagonists. What surprised the lookers-on most was, that Phillidor could keep up a lively conversation during these severe labours. Phillidor's achievement has been far outdone in recent years by Morphy, Paulsen, and Blackburne, in respect to the number of games played at once; but the lively Frenchman carried off the palm as a gossip and a player at the same time.

DREAD OF SCOTCH COMPETITION: SCOTCH NON-TRADING LEAGUE AGAINST ENGLAND.

On this day, in 1527, is dated the ordinary' of the corporation of weavers in Newcastle, in which, amongst other regulations, there is a strict one that no member should take a Scotsman to apprentice, or set any of that nation to work, under a penalty of forty shillings. To call a brother, 'Scot' or 'mansworn,' inferred a forfeit of 6s. 8d., without any forgiveness.'-Brand's Hist. of Newcastle.

The superior ability of the Scottish nation, in the competitions of life, seems to have made an unusual impression on their Newcastle neighbours. To be serious-we can fortunately shew our freedom from national partiality by following up the above with an example of the like illiberality on the part of Scotland towards England. It consists of a sort of covenant entered into in the year 1752 by the drapers, mercers, milliners, &c., of Edinburgh, to cease dealing with commercial travellers from England-what were then called English Riders. Considering' so runs the language of this document that the giving orders or commissions to English Riders (or clerks to English merchants), when they come to this city, tends greatly to the destruction of the wonted wholesale trade thereof, from which most of the towns in Scotland used to be furnished with goods, and that some of these English Riders not only enhances the said wholesale trade, but also corresponds with, and sells goods to private families and persons, at the same prices and rates as if to us in a wholesale way, and that their frequent journeys to this place are attended with high charges, which consequently must be laid on the cost of those goods we buy from them, and that we can be as well served in

NON-TRADING LEAGUE AGAINST ENGLAND.

goods by a written commission by post (as little or no regard is had by them to the patterns or colours of goods which we order them to send when they are here), therefore, and for the promoting of trade, we hereby voluntarily bind and oblige ourselves that, in no time coming, we shall give any personal order or commission for any goods we deal in to any English dealer, clerk, or rider whatever who shall come to Scotland. They add an obligation to have no dealings with any people in England who shall make a practice of coming themselves or sending clerks or riders into Scotland.' The penalty was to be two pounds two shillings for every breach of the obligations.

This covenant was drawn out on a good sheet of vellum bearing a stamp, and which was to be duly registered, in order to give it validity at law against the obligants in case of infraction. It bears one hundred and fifty-four signatures, partly of men, generally in good and partly of women in bad holograph. It is endorsed, Resolution and Agreement of the Merchants of Edinburgh for Discouraging English Riders from Coming into

Scotland.'

This strange covenant, as it appears to us, seems to have made some noise, for, several months after its date, the following paragraph regarding it appeared in an English newspaper: We hear from Scotland, that the trading people throughout that kingdom have agreed, by a general association, not to give any orders for the future to any English riders that may be sent among them by the English tradesmen. This resolution is owing to the unfair behaviour of the itinerants, whose constant practice it is to undermine and undersell each other, without procuring any benefit to the trading interest of the nation in general, by such behaviour; which, on the contrary, only tends to unsettle the course of business and destroy that connection and good understanding between people, who had better not deal together at all, than not do it with spirit and mutual confidence. It is said also that several towns in England have already copied this example.'-London Daily Advertiser, January 27, 1753.

*Amongst the male signatures are those of James Lindsay, Cleghorn and Livingston, David Inglis, Edward Caithness, Patrick Inglis, Hugh Hamilton, Adam Anderson, Murray and Lindsay, George Dunsmure, George Pitcairne, James Beveridge, Bertram and Williamson, Alexander Hepburn, Arbuthnott and Scott, James Stirling, Thomas Trotter, Jun., William Clapperton, Archibald Bowie, James Allan, William Burn, Nicol Swan, Archibald M'Coull, John Hope, Stuart and Wallace, Walter Hamilton, John Grieve, Oliver Tod. of these were wealthy citizens; some became magistrates. Amongst the female names are those of Katherine Ramsay and sisters, Peg Bowie, Betty Murray, expressed. The Misses Ramsay were milliners of great Christy Balfour, and many others thus familiarly business, who ultimately realised some wealth, and built a handsome suburban villa, in which to spend their latter days. 291

Several

SPENSER.

Scores of cottages are shut up-one old woman perhaps only left to look after the whole row-for even the children have gone to glean, and many of the village artizans find it pleasant to quit their usual employment for a few days, and go out to reap the corn. There will be no getting a coat mended or a shoe cobbled for days to come. If there is a stir of life in the village street, those who move along are either coming from or going to the reapers, bringing back empty bottles and baskets, carrying them filled with ale and provisions. delicate Cockney, who can only eat the lean of his overdone mutton-chop, with the aid of pickles, would stand aghast at the great cold dinner spread

or

A

out for the farmer and his house-servants-men, each with the appetite of three, and maidens who can eat meat that is all fat. Pounds of fat beef, bacon, and ham, great wedges of cheese, cold applepies, with crusts two inches thick, huge brown loaves, lumps of butter, and a continually gurgling ale, are the viands which a well-to-do farmer places before his servants, and shares with them, for he argues, he cannot expect to get the proper quantity of work out of them unless they live well. To get his harvest in quick, while the weather is fine, is the study of the great corn-grower; and such a far-seeing man scarcely gives the cost a consideration, for he knows that those who delay will, if the weather changes, be ready to pay almost any price for reapers; so he gets in his corn while the sun shines.' If well got in, what a price it will fetch in the market, compared with that which was left out in the rain, until it became discoloured and sprouted! And as he points to his ricks with pride, he asks what's the value of the extra bullock, the pig or two, and the few barrels of ale the reapers consumed, compared to such a crop as that; and he is right. It is an anxious time for the farmer. He is continually looking at his weatherglass, and watching those out-of-door signs which denote a change in the weather, and which none are better acquainted with than those who pass so much of their life in the fields. Unlike the manufacturer, who carries on his business indoors whatever the changes of the season may be, the farmer is dependent on the weather for the safety of his crop, and can never say what that will be, no matter how beautiful it may look while standing, until it is safely garnered. Somehow he seems to live nearer to God than the busy indwellers of cities, for he puts his trust in Him who has promised that He will always send 'seed-time and harvest.'

How gracefully a good reaper handles his sickle, and clutches the corn-one sweep, and the whole armful is down, and laid so neat and level, that when the band is put round the sheaf, the bottom of almost every straw touches the ground when it is reared up, and the ears look as level as they did while growing! It is a nice art to make those corn-bands well, which bind the sheaves-to twist the ears of corn so that they shall all cluster together without shaking out the grain, and then to tie up the sheaves, so round and plump, that they may be rolled over, when stacking or loading, without hardly a head becoming loose. There are rich morsels of colour about the cornfield where the reapers are at work. The handkerchiefs which they bind around their foreheads, to keep off the sun-the white of their shirt-sleeves, making spots of light amid the yellow corn-the gleaners in costumes of every hue, blue, red, and gray, stooping or standing here and there, near the overhanging trees in the hedgerows-make such a diversity of colour as please the eye, while the great blue heaven spans over all, and a few loose silver clouds float gently over the scene. In such a light, the white horses seem cut out of silver, the chestnuts of ruddy gold, while the black horses stand out against the sky, as if cut in black marble. What great gaps halfa-dozen reapers soon make in the standing corn! Half-an-hour ago, where the eye dwelt on a broad furrow of upstanding ears, there is now a low road of stubble, where trails of the ground-convolvulus may be seen, and the cyanus of every hue, which |

the country children call corn-flowers. Pretty is it, too, to see the little children gleaning, each with a rough bag or pocket before it, and a pair of old scissors dangling by its side, to cut off the straw, for only the ears are to be placed in the gleaner's little bag. Then there is the large poke, under the hedge, into which their mother empties the tiny glean-bags, and that by night will be filled, and a heavy load it is for the poor woman to carry home on her head, for a mile or two, while the little ones trot along by her side, the largest perhaps carrying a small sheaf, which she has gleaned, and from which the straw has not been cut, while the ears hang down and mingle with her flowing hair. A good, kind-hearted farmer will, like Boaz of old, when he spoke kindly to pretty Ruth, let his poor neighbours glean even amongst the sheaves.' The dry hard stubble, amid which they glean, cuts the bare legs and naked arms of the poor children like wires, making them as rough at times as fresh-plucked geese. Rare gleaning there is where the 'stooks' have stood, when the wagons come to 'lead' the corn out of the field. The men stick the sheaves on their forks as fast as you can count them, throw them into the wagon, then move on to the next 'stook'-each of which consists of eight or ten sheaves-then there is a rush and scramble to the spot that is just cleared, for there the great ears of loose and fallen corn lie thick and close together, and that is the richest gleaning harvest yields.

Who has not paused to see the high-piled wagons come rocking over the furrowed fields, and sweeping through the green lanes, at the leading-home of harvest? All the village turns out to see the last load carried into the rick-yard; the toothless old grandmother, in spectacles, stands at her cottage-door; the poor old labourer, who has been long_ailing, and who will never more help to reap the harvest, leans on his stick in the sunshine; while the feeble huzzas of the children mingle with the deep-chested cheers of the men, and the silvery ring of maiden-voices-all welcoming home the last load with cheery voices, especially where the farmer is respected, and has allowed his poor neighbours to glean. Some are mounted on the sheaves, and one sheaf is often decorated with flowers and ribbons, the last that was in the field; and sometime a pretty girl sits sideways on one of the great fat horses, her straw-hat ornamented with flowers and ears of corn. Right proud she is when hailed by the rustics as the Harvest Queen! Then there are the farmer, his wife, and daughters, all standing and smiling at the open gate of the stackyard; and proud is the driver as he cocks his hat aside, and giving the horses a slight touch, sends the last load with a sweep into the yard, that almost makes you feel afraid it will topple over, so much does it rock coming in at this grand finish. Rare gleaning is there, too, for the birds, and many a little animal, in the long lanes through which the wagons have passed during the harvest, for almost every overhanging branch has taken toll from the loads, while the hawthorn-hedges have swept over them like rakes. The long-tailed field-mouse will carry off many an ear to add to his winterstore, and stow away in his snug nest under the embankment. What grand subjects, mellowed by the setting suns of departed centuries, do these harvest-fields bring before a picture-loving eye!